


Winterfell Reimagined

by Wyneb_Ceffyl_Arya



Series: Season 8 [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gendrya - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 23:10:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19094932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wyneb_Ceffyl_Arya/pseuds/Wyneb_Ceffyl_Arya
Summary: This is the first piece of fan fiction I have written in about 6 years, and only the third piece to boot.Like many of you, I wrote this as a reaction to the 8th and final series of Game of Thrones.I have written it entirely from the point of view of Arya Stark.This is mostly just the happenings of the actual episode, with a few embelishments. However, I have started working on the next episodes also.It took me a while to actually decide on posting this. I hope you enjoy...





	Winterfell Reimagined

The winds were blowing an icy breeze into her skin, at least the snow had stopped falling for now. She was meant to be stood in the courtyard at Winterfell with Sansa and Bran, but instead she had to find the best view. She’d managed to position herself to the front of the thick crowds that had formed along the streets of Winter Town. Around her, people were jostling for a better view as an army of identical stone-like men passed. Their armour and weaponry were grey, their faces hidden behind masks, but they all moved in perfect unison, as one might imagine an animated statue may. She noticed a small boy clambering his way up a near-by tree. He reminded her of Bran. Bran before the accident. She looked up watching the boy, hoisting himself into a position he would be safe in.  
Then the thrum of boots lessened, and hoof beats began to thrum. Closer and closer the hoof beats came. She looked up, and approaching was two horses. Both the horses were practically identical, both black as coal, but their riders were as different from one another as the horses were alike. The horse furthest away held a woman. Her hair was silver, actually silver - Arya had never seen someone with hair that colour, but she knew from the stories Old Nan told her as a child, she was the Targaryn Queen. From her position in the crowd, Arya couldn’t see her very clearly, but she knew her eyes would be violet to match that silver hair.  
But it wasn’t the beautiful woman who held her attention. It was the man on the second horse. She didn’t need to be any closer to know how he looked. She knew every inch of his face better than she knew her own. It had been about 8 years since she had last seen him, back then he was on the cusp of manhood, now he was a man grown. He still looked the same though. The same dark hair as her, eyes far darker than hers, they were almost black. His face was always serious from afar, but when he was with Arya, his face could light up the whole room.  
Neither of them looked down towards her, they both looked up towards Winterfell and at one another. But seeing Jon had made Arya smile, genuinely smile. It had been too long since she had seen her favourite brother, she couldn’t wait for him to muss her hair and call her ‘little sister’.  
More of the stone-like soldiers followed the Dragon Queen and her brother. And then more men on horses. Most of them were men she had never seen before, most likely Southerners, but they were definitely Westerosi. And then she spotted someone else she knew. A big man, one of the biggest she had ever seen sat atop another dark horse. The man was fierce looking, with long straggly brown hair falling to his shoulders and a beard covering the bottom of his face. Most of the right side of his face was covered with a burn, it made most people look away from him, but not Arya. She wasn’t scared of the Hound. She had robbed him and left him for dead once years ago when she was much younger, before she had even become a Faceless Man. And despite this, she found herself feeling glad to see him. They would certainly need men who fought as fiercely as the Hound.  
The next man was not someone she was expecting to ever seen again. But how relieved and happy she was to see him. His horse was white, like one of Sansa’s fabled knights riding into save a damsel. It had been perhaps 4 years since she had last seen him, at least that, and both of them were clearly different people now. His once shaggy black hair was now cropped close to his head, and he had a beard to match it. He looked highborn, dressed in fine furs and leather. He’d need it to fight the cold, he was a Southerner, he would not be used to the cold Northern Winter. Arya felt another smile form on her lips as she watched him ride past. This smile melted any ice Arya held inside of her, the smile she formed was more so than the one she even had for Jon. His eyes were clearly fixed on Winterfell, he looked in awe and almost excited, and slightly sad.  
More men on horses continued to stream through the streets, a few Wheel Houses trekked by, there was even another woman riding in. This woman was dark skinned and riding a chestnut mare. The woman rode alongside a man with similar colouring to her. He wore the same uniform as the stone-men, but his face was uncovered. Both he and the woman both looked cold and very out of place. Then woman was scanning the crowds, the crowds did not react warmly to them. The Northerners hardly trusted Southern folk, let alone those from outside Westoros. Arya had seen many people who looked like these two whilst in Bravos, but those who lived in Wintertown, or even those who resided at Winterfell were unlikely to have seen anyone like these two before.  
The horses, and men on feet kept coming, streams and streams of them. Arya thought she had better start making her way back to Winterfell, lest her siblings start looking for her. But then a loud squawk sounded from the air. Most people around her dropped to the ground, cowering in fear. But Arya held her ground. She was amazed and amused as she peered up to the sky to see two fully grown dragons flying across the sky. One was black, with blood-red horns and spine. The second dragon was smaller than the black one, but still a beastly size. The smaller dragon was green and bronze in colour, it seemed to be following the bigger black dragon, as though he knew who the boss was. Once the dragons had begun to disappear from the sky, Arya began to move towards the Castle walls.  
She’d missed Jon’s arrival by time she arrived at the Castle. She would have to catch up with him later. When she arrived, Jon, Sansa and the Dragon Queen were holding court in the Great Hall of Winterfell. She didn’t feel like joining in, so instead she lurked in a servants doorway. She wouldn’t be seen there, but it allowed her to monitor the others. She saw little Ned Umber, address his Lord and Lady confidently, and stammer when addressing the Dragon Queen. She watched in pride and awe as Lyanna Morment took the floor. She was of age of Arya when she had left Winterfell for Kings Landing all those years ago. She was as fierce as Arya, and her aunt Lyanna Stark for who the Lady Morment was named, but whereas Arya was more confident in physically fighting, Lyanna was a competent orator. She was expressive and could command a room. Despite her age, small statute and sex, all the men around her had their eyes on her, they all cheered on her words, and Arya joined in.  
Once Lyanna had sat, Arya slipped her way out of the hall through the servants corridor, she found her way out into the main court yard of Winterfell. The place was full of people, all hard at work. None of the Lords and Lady’s were here, they were all still in the Great Hall. Here were the Smiths, the Grooms, the Squires and the like. Arya stood out of the way, obscured behind the castle pillars so she could view others, but remained unseen herself. Her attention was on a cart. It was loaded with chunks of some material. She didn’t know what it was. It was black like coal but shared similarities with slate. But it wasn’t the material she was interested in. No, it was the man supervising the wagons.  
“Hey! Careful lads!” She heard his voice boom, “We need every last bit of it!”  
With that he hoisted his way into the wagon.  
“Are these the last of the wagons?” he questioned.  
“Aye.” Came a response.  
He almost sounded like he was in charge! Maybe the material was something that could be turned into weapons. Maybe that’s why he was here.

Once she had begun to see the high borns emerging from the Great Hall, Arya began to make her way to the Godswood. She knew Jon would be there.  
Seeing her brothers’ dark hair and cloak against the pure white snow of the Godswood made her want to run and fling herself in his arms. But he had his back to her, he was facing the Weirwood Tree with the red sap faces carved into them. She couldn’t tell if Jon was at pray or just enjoying some peace and quiet after the noise of the Great Hall. She walked slowly across the opening, being silent until she was a few feet away from him.  
“You used to be taller.” Arya teased.  
He turned suddenly, his face was a picture of shock.  
“How did you sneak up on me?” He asked gruffly.  
“How did you survive a knife through the heart?” She shot back.  
“I didn’t.” He grimaced in response.   
She looked at him, a small smile pulling at the corner of her lips, then the smile erupted and she laughed, she ran forward the final few steps and he swept her into his arms.  
She nuzzled her face into his furs and they both wrapped their arms around each other as tight as they could.  
“You still have it!” He exclaimed as he set her down and took in the sword strapped to her waist.  
She pulled the sword from it’s scabbard.  
“Needle.” She said full of pride, showing him the sword he’d had made for her all those years ago.  
He held the ends, looking down at it, then back to his little sister.  
“Have you ever had to use it?” he questioned.  
“Once or twice.” She blinked back at the grimace he had on his face.  
She wasn’t used to concern these past few years, most of the time had been dedicated to training to become a Faceless Man or working on her List, she hadn’t been with friends or family for a long time.  
The look he’d given her hit her right in the stomach. She’d done what she had to survive, and she’d not only survived, but she’d thrived.  
Arya gave him a small grin in reply, then saw his sword. He certainly didn’t have that when he left for Castle Black! He caught her looking at it. He smiled in reply and unsheathed it. Needle hardly made a noise when she’d taken it from her scabbard, Jon’s sword though, rippled with a thunderous noise as he pulled it out and laid it out before her.  
She grinned again and took the sword in her hands. It was impressive. Needle was small and elegant, light and flexible. Jon’s sword was a contrast. It was large and heavy, it’s hilt was decorated with the head of a wolf. She stared down at the sword in awe.  
“Valyrian steel?” She questioned.  
“Jealous?” He replied.  
She weighed the sword up in the hands.  
“Too heavy for me.” She grinned, handing it back to him.  
He re-sheafed the sword, he laid a hand on her shoulder.  
“Where were you before?” He asked seriously, like her father would have once done.  
Looking at his face at that moment, she could see her father in him. She couldn’t bring herself to respond to his question - what was the point in worrying him about something he couldn’t change?  
“I could have done with your help with Sansa.”  
Arya looked away from him.  
“She doesn’t like your Queen does she?”  
“Sansa thinks she’s smarter than everyone.”“She is.” Arya said, even surprising herself. “She’s the smartest person I’ve ever met.”  
Jon chuckled.  
“You are defending her. You!”   
There was no secret of the animosity there had been between the Stark sisters as children. But that was such a long time ago. In her time away from her sister, Arya had grown to miss her, and appreciate her feminine softness more. Arya and Sansa were as different as night and day. In behaviour and looks. Sansa favoured the Tulley colouring of their mother, with auburn hair and blue eyes. Whereas Arya was clearly a Stark, with dark hair and grey eyes. Sansa had always been docile and feminine, a proper Lady. Arya had always been wild, almost part-wolf part-human, Arya could never be tamed. And as children, this caused a lot of problems between herself and her sister.  
“I’m defending our family. And so is she.” Arya said matter of factly.  
“I’m her family too.” Jon said painfully.  
Arya smiled softly and hugged him.  
“Don’t forget that.” She said gently into his ear.

The next day saw more and more people pouring into Winterfell. Most were people from the surrounding villages and other places across the North. The Lady Carstark arrived amongst them. The Court Yard was brimming with people, and even Arya couldn’t hide from this many eyes. She decided she would have to go seek out somewhere quieter.  
She found her way to the forges of Winterfell. Not somewhere she usually spent too much time, but she knew how to sneak in undetected. She peered around watching multiple smiths at work, but there was one in particular she was looking for. She spotted him.  
“Gendry, he’s here.” She heard someone call in the background.  
He looked up towards the voice and nodded, he reached for a large axe off the wall behind him.  
He began walking towards the source of the voice.  
“It wasn’t easy making a blade that big with dragon glass.” He says confidently.  
He looked hot, there was sweat beading his brow, the forge was nice and warm despite the deep cold outside.  
“You saying you’re good? Is that it?” The Hound barked back whilst inspecting the axe Gendry had just placed in his hands.  
“I’m just saying it’s a tricky material to work wi-“  
“Who makes weapons for the Wildlings?” The Hound cut him off.   
Arya could see him fixing Gendry with his stare.  
“Cripples and cocksuckers.” The Hound continues.  
“Which one are you?” He sneers.  
Gendry looked back, clearly uncomfortable.  
“Leave him be.” Arya said stepping out of the shadows.  
The Hound turned around to face her, and Gendry looked up towards her.  
For all she knows, this is the first time either of them have seen her in years. The last time she’d seen either of them, she was just a girl. Now she was a woman grown and a Faceless Man.  
They both stared at her. She swears she sees awe in both the brown eyes and the blue eyes watching her.  
It’s the Hound who talks first.  
“I heard you were here.” He say flatly.  
Of course she would be here, she thought, I’m Arya Stark of Winterfell, this is my home!  
“You left me to die.” He says loading the words with malice.  
“First I robbed you.” She replied narrowing her eyes at the beast of a man. She was probably one of the only people in the Seven Kingdoms who was not afraid of The Hound.  
He stood up and crossed to where she stood. He towered over her by at least a foot and a half. The two of them frowning at each other.  
“You’re a cold little bitch, aren’t you?” He said. “Guess that’s why you’re still alive”, he almost smiled at her before walking off with his axe.  
Once he’d moved on she could she Gendry, he was stood just before her. He looked slightly confused by the whole encounter between Arya and the Hound. Her full attention was now on him. She ran her eyes over him, he wore a basic brown top, with his smiths apron and gloves. He stepped towards her and a smile spread across his face, his blue eyes glimmering with the light of the fires all around him.  
“That was a nice axe you made for him.” She said, folding her hands in front of her. “You’ve gotten better.”  
“Yeah, thanks.” he nodded, “So have you.”  
She looked at him, she hadn’t shown him anything to get better at.  
“I mean, you look good.” He stammered nervously.  
“Thanks, so do you.” She replied with a hint of a smirk.   
He looked at her again, he looked uncomfortable now, as though he were starting to think things through. He turned on his heel, and she began to follow him.  
“It’s not a bad place to grown up, if it wasn’t so cold.” He announced.  
“Stay close to that force, then.” She teased standing behind him.  
He grunted a slight laugh.  
“Is that a command, Lady Stark?” He said picking up something that appeared to be part of a weapon. She couldn’t see his face, but she didn’t have to see it to know he had a big grin plastered on it.  
“Don’t call me that.” She said coming around to face him with her eye brow raised.  
“As you wish, milady.” He chuckled back.  
He looked down at her, that grin as familiar to her as the walls of Winterfell, she couldn’t help but grin back up at him.  
She chuckled and looked down to the floor. Reaching inside her cloak she pulled out a piece of parchment and passed it on to him.  
“Here’s my wish.”  
He looked down at the diagram in front of him.  
“Can you make it?” She prompted.  
“What do you need something like this for?” He frowned back at her.  
She ignored his question. It was a stupid question, the Long Night was nearly upon us, what did he think she wanted it for!  
“Can you make it or not?” She almost growled.  
“You already have a sword.” He motioned towards Needle.  
“What’s that?” He said spotting the Valyrian steel dagger her brother Bran had given her.  
She removed it from it’s scabbard, twirling it over in her hands. She was showing off, why shouldn’t she! She passed him the dagger by it’s handle, with an unimpressed look upon her face.   
“It’s Valyrian steel.” He exclaimed whilst inspecting the dagger.   
“I always knew you were just another rich girl.” He teased looking down into her eyes.  
Arya reached out and took the dagger back off of him.  
“You don’t know any other rich girls.” She teased softly, sliding the blade slowly back into the scabbard.  
She gave him a quick body scan, with the tug of a smile appearing at the right corner of her lips, before turning to leave.  
As she walked away, she turned around to see if he was still watching her. He was.  
She smirked back at him, he was left looking completely dumbstruck. That went well, Arya smiled to herself as she made her way across the court yard. The place was full of people, and yet she somehow felt in a bubble, no one else mattered just the man watching her walk away in awe.


End file.
